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Authors: Sarah Ashley

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BOOK: Never Say Love
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Chapter
1

 

It had been a year since Benito
proved
himself and as he stood in his father’s office. “It’s yours son, this is all yours—I can retire now.” Franco announced as he sat back in his chair. Benito was standing at the other side of the desk, stunned by the announcement his father made.
Retiring?
This was news to him!

Looking up toward his son, who maintained his stunned silence, astounded by his father’s announcement, Franco rubbed his fingers over his chin. “I’m here if you want me to help, but I’m stepping down as of tomorrow morning.” Twirling a pen, he studied his handsome boy. Everyone said that Benito looked like his father. Indeed, they both had very dark hair and strong masculine features.

Franco stopped twirling his pen and began tapping it on his desk, a thoughtful look across his face as he gave out his instructions.

“I want you to go to the UK and expand the operation.” Franco grumbled, “Get some new contracts over there. It’s doing well, but it could be better, much better. I’ve sent Isabella on ahead to see how things are and collate information, but I want you over there in the next few weeks.” He smiled broadly at his son, a beautiful smile on such a handsome face, as he continued to explain how he wanted the British business to grow and how Isabella, his efficient, if periodically officious, Personal Assistant was there and had already reported back that there
were
areas for improvement and many businesses they could approach. In short, Franco explained that he wanted to monopolise the security business in London, and he didn’t care whose toes he trod on to do it, he wanted the UK operation to be
big
and
profitable
.

The older man was a huge and very well built for his age, still incredibly well toned and strong, he could easily take on a younger man—and win. Dressed in a silver grey suit and white shirt, no tie, he was the epitome of Italian style and looks with his beautiful olive skin, dark hair and with eyes as black as coal. Yes, he frequently received advances from women, who were always shunned, for Franco only ever had or required one love,
Sophia
.

The young Benito stood in his father’s office as if on ceremony in front of the huge oak desk. Despite being the image of his father, he was not quite as big. Dressed in an expensive, well-cut black suit and a white open neck shirt, he waited for the argument. He feared his father,
nobody
crossed Franco or his family, and Benito certainly knew better than to question any decision his father had made—but this? He didn’t
want
to go to the UK.

“But Dad, I don’t know...,” he mumbled in his deep husky voice as he looked directly at his father.

Whilst he stood in awe of his father, the man who had shown and taught him everything he now knew about the family firm, there were times when he did not agree with his decisions and this was one of those times.

Throughout the years since Sophia had passed, Franco had taught his son how to fight, how to negotiate on the purchase of certain arms, and how to control the men that formed the
army
of security professionals employed by Franco and now, jointly with himself.

“Son, you must go, you
have
to. I’m too old for this now. Benito, I’m 59,” his voice trailed off slightly. “I want to enjoy life a bit. I’ll still advise you if you need me to, I’ll always be here—heaven knows your mother will haunt me if I don’t look after you and guide you and Adrianna, but I need to step down,” shaking his head he looked at his son, “this is a young man’s game.”

Shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk, he purposely avoided eye contact with Benito. “First thing tomorrow you will sit here, the papers are in order. It should be an easy day
for you. You can hit the ground running.” When he received no answer, Franco looked up and observed the strained look on his son’s face, the younger man shaking his head.

Ignoring the non-spoken pleas of his obvious desire not to take over, he continued his lecture of what he expected from his only son.

“The UK operation has
got
to expand. This
has
to be your first job. It’s all set up, you know it is—it could just do
so
much more!” Standing, Franco walked from behind his desk and paced his office. “You can stay with my cousin, Roberto, or we can arrange for you to stay in that hotel of Maggie’s until you get an apartment. You remember James from last year?” Franco asked. Benito answered with a sideways look and a nod, shaking his head, a sullen look on his face. God, what had he done to deserve this? To be
banished
to London!

Franco continued, ignoring Benito’s look. “Well, he manages the hotel; if you’d rather stay there, I’ll have Isabella arrange it for you. Then you can get yourself sorted, rent a place or something.” Franco shrugged dismissively flapping his hand. Looking towards his son again, he shook his head. He’d always hated having to deal with the teenage sullen years, the awkwardness he’d received from both of his children as they grew, the look on Benito’s face brought it all back to him,
bloody teenagers!

“But dad…” Benito protested.

Franco’s face hardened as he looked up. “No Benito,” he spoke firmly, “my mind is made up. You
are
going to the UK, and you will work to expand the business.” He half laughed. “Have a good time while you’re there and please, try to find a wife! I want grandkids before I’m too old to enjoy them!” He winked and smiled. “This place runs itself, and if anything major goes wrong, I’m here, and they can always come and find me at home. Anyway, with the technology we now have, you can run a business from anywhere in the world. Can’t you?” Franco frowned.

Franco, fearful of technology and computers, glanced at the closed laptop on his desk. Benito followed his gaze, the thing had never been opened; he doubted his father even knew how to turn it on! Maybe it
was
time to take over, to head the business, to grow the UK operation and develop what was already there. Hell, he spoke fluent English just like his parents, and didn’t the British girls love an Italian accent? Why not? A feint smile crossed his lips as he thought of all the
entertaining
he could do! Yes, maybe it would be good for a change.

Franco
smiled, his beautifully shaped mouth turning into a broad grin. “So, you’re up for spending the next few weeks here and then go to the UK? Go during the summer, the winters are crap.” He laughed, “But, I’m telling you, you really need to step up the operation over there. I’ll have Isabella set some interviews up to find a P.A for you, you’ll need a decent girl to sort you out,” he smiled, “keep you organised; I know what your administrative skills are like, non-existent! And, you really
do
need to think about a wife!”

Walking over to the window of his dad’s office, Benito sighed, his hands in his pockets he stood there, looking down at the street below. “Never marrying dad, you know that. I’ll never marry,” he mumbled.

Franco shook his head at his son, turned and slapped him in a fatherly fashion on the back. “Whatever. If your mother was here it would be a different story.”

“Dad!”
Benito shouted, spinning around quickly, facing his father his face hardened, “If mum was here,
everything
would be different, wouldn’t it? Adrianna wouldn’t have got involved with that bastard and then she would never have disowned me. I wouldn’t have done what I
had
to do; I wouldn’t have got involved with all that shit, would I?”

He watched his father sit back down and swivel in his chair, he rested his head in his hand, his elbow propped on the desk. “What’s done is done son. Adrianna could have backed away from him before it got to that. She
had
the choice. I don’t agree with what he did, but he needed to be dealt with. What you did was only what any decent brother would have done. We’ve always looked after our own, and we always will, I hope. But, to do that
you
need
to produce offspring—unless there’s something about you—something that you’re not telling me?” Franco looked up at his son, a single eyebrow raised as he questioned his son’s sexuality.

Benito’s face hardened, staring at his father. “I love women, just not the same one all of the time! As far as that bastard is concerned, he shouldn’t have done it… end of! Anyway, it’s past, and I’m not arguing with you over it.” He knew better than to get into a fight with his father and had started to resolve himself. After his father questioning his sexuality, maybe it was time to spend time away from Franco. Yes, he decided, he’d welcome the opportunity to spend the summer in England. Maybe he could turn it into a fun trip. The more he thought about it, the more the idea grew on him. Weren’t English girls supposed to be
lively
? Well, from the conversations he’d overheard his father’s cousins, Ramiro and Roberto having, he’d certainly got that impression.

Looking at his father, “I can’t believe you said that to me!” His tone harsh, “I’m as virile as the next man! And, I
do
like women!”

“I have no doubt you are, and I know about the different girl every night, but it’s about time you started to take life a little more seriously. Settle down, start a family. Benito, I mean it!” Franco’s tone became demanding as he launched into a fatherly lecture. “But, make sure you get yourself checked before you seriously take up with anyone. You don’t want to find a beautiful young woman and give her something nasty,” he laughed. He was determined he
was
stepping down from the day-to-day running of the business, but he knew he would never wholly let go, he would subtly pull the strings, make sure that Benito had things heading in the right direction, for a short while anyway; then, in a couple of year’s time, he would totally relinquish responsibility.

Stepping back towards the sofa and dropping down onto the leather, Benito was slightly stunned at his father’s outburst. Taking a few minutes to get his head together, he sat back. “I’ll make the arrangements and if you can speak with Isabella, I’ll fly out in ten days or so.” He smiled at his father, “But, I’m not staying with Roberto and Gia. Have Isabella book me into that hotel. James and I had a good time last year. I can’t stay with family, I’ll not live with any sort of curfew that Roberto and Gia may impose—I live on my own and come and go as I please—that’s how it will be over there, okay? As for my sexual health,
father
, I’m clean! Okay?”

“Fine,
son.
” Franco smiled, “Whatever you want. I’ll ask Isabella to book you a suite, okay?”

Benito nodded, “Yeah, do that. That would be best.”

 

Chapter 2

 

Nine days after the discussion with his father, Benito went out with friends, their plan to send him off to England in style. The five friends had a few drinks in a bar before visiting a club they regularly frequented. They danced, drank some more and then each picked up a girl of their choosing to
entertain
, a game they frequently played. Standing at the edge of the dance floor, they would each select a girl, signal her out to each other as their mark for the evening and then try their level best to secure her for some
fun,
each young man being free of the girl by the next morning.

The girl Benito had chosen lay beneath him. She was incredibly slim, in fact, a little too bony for his liking. Long dark curls and a fine bone structure. Closing his eyes, not wanting to look at her skeletal-like face, he pounded into her, afraid that he might break her fragile-looking body. She moaned and writhed as he drove deeper inside her, his elbows to the side of her head. He was trapped by her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and her nails digging into his back. Shit, he hated being marked by women with long nails—the price often paid for a one night stand with someone he’d hopefully never see again.

Over and over he hammered into her as she lay, giving nothing back, which was fine by him. He’d use her for his self-satisfaction and whilst he’d rather receive something back, he was, under the circumstances, happy with her just lying there—apparently pissed!

Finding his release, he collapsed on top of her, pinning her down as she lay still beneath him. Drawing breath, he eventually rolled off the too-thin woman, found the bathroom in her untidy little bedsit and flushed the used condom. Splashing some water over his face, he returned to the bedroom where he saw the scrawny, dark haired girl sound asleep as he’d left her. God, he’d made a bad choice tonight. His last night for a while in Italy and she was useless, too pissed to do anything other than lie there!

Reaching for his clothes, he dressed and left the bedsit quietly, leaving no note or contact details—he wouldn’t be entertaining
her
again! Returning home, he packed his small bag and grabbed a couple of hours sleep.

 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, he was being met at London City airport by James, the son of one of his father’s very good friend, Lucca Aconi. Lucca had tragically died following a mugging that had gone wrong a few years ago. James, who was then only 18 years old, had made the decision, supported by Roberto and Gia, to turn off the life support system that was keeping his father alive. Benito had no idea how James could have done such a thing. Hell, the thought of having to end his own father’s life, it made his blood run cold. The family had pulled together and tried to find the bastards that had caused Lucca’s death, but nobody was ever found.

He knew a little of James and had met him a couple of times last year when he’d visited London with his father. They shared a few drinks and had some nights out when Benito had introduced James to the
Entertainment Game
. James liked the ladies as much as he did and had enjoyed playing the
Game
that the Italian had brought to British shores!

James knew all about Benito dealing with the bastard who had violated his sister. Franco had taken him away, out of the country, for a few weeks until the police had finished looking for the missing man. They’d never find him, well not what was left of him anyway and probably never would. It had been a tumultuous few months which had seen Benito turning to illegal
substances in an effort to forget what he’d done, what he
had
to do, although he hadn’t particularly enjoyed seeing the bastard squirm.

He
felt his substance use was never uncontrolled, his strong willpower preventing the abuse he inflicted on his body escalating to addiction. Others, including his father, disagreed and after a short period of intensive counselling, he completely stopped smoking and gave up cigarettes, the lot.

Scanning the arrivals hall as he cleared customs, Benito looked for James, spotting him after only a few minutes, waving and walking towards him with purposeful strides. The young Italian offered his hand as he approached his ride to the hotel, “James—long time!”

“Benito, good to see you mate. Come on, the car is on a short stay.”

The two stunningly handsome men, similar in age, Benito a couple of years older, shook hands before heading out of the terminal building and to James’ green Vauxhall.

“Aw, shit!” James shook his head, “fucking hell, two minutes over and they’ve ticketed me.” Yanking the ticket from the windscreen he walked around to the back of the car and opened the boot, cursing a round of expletives as he went, allowing Benito to place his small case and flight bag inside. Benito walked around to the front of the car, initially the wrong side. “Bloody right hand drives,” he mumbled under his breath before walking around the car yet again and sitting in the passenger seat.

James laughed as he pulled out into the traffic. “We’re all on the opposite side here mate,” he said as he negotiated the heavy traffic always present in London weaving his way through the docklands area and towards Reid’s Hotel—a five-star luxury hotel in London’s Covent Garden owned by Maggie Smyth, a woman Benito knew, who used to be friends with his father and his father’s cousins, Roberto and Ramiro, James was the hotel’s General Manager.

“Dad said that you’ve been staying with Gia and Roberto until recently?” Benito asked.

“Yep, I was there a few months when I came back from the States. Gia’s amazing, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. I sorted an apartment and moved out a couple of weeks ago. I’ve reserved a suite at Reid’s for you, booked it for a couple of weeks to start with. I’ve done you a deal on the rate; if you need it for longer, let me know...” James concentrated on the road as he negotiated the traffic which randomly appeared from all directions.

“Thanks for all of your help. I have my instructions to visit Gia and Roberto before I check into the hotel, can we do that? Don’t want him breathing down my neck, and he
will
!” Benito grumbled, making conversation. “Do you like working at the hotel?”

“Yeah, it’s a good job. The pay’s okay but hey, I’m back in the UK where I want to be, and there are a lot of perks.” He glanced at Benito, laughing. “Rooms to take the girls, you know what I mean?”

Benito smiled and nodded. “I’ve no doubt I’ll be doing that before long.” He half laughed, “Don’t you work nights though? Isn’t hotel work unsociable hours?”

“No, not really...” James stopped talking abruptly, his face turning hard as he slammed on the breaks to avoid an elderly man who had pulled out right in front of them, “Fucking hell—shouldn’t be on the roads,” his deep voice raised to shouting as he flapped his arm around, shaking his fist at the grey-haired man, who must have been 90, pootling around at a snail’s pace, holding up the traffic.

Once the congestion had cleared, the old man safely out of the way, the two young men continued their conversation. “No, my assistant manager likes to work permanent nights. The fool is married—got himself lumbered with a wife and kids. She works during the day so he chooses to work only nights that way he can be at home in the day to mind his children, poor bastard!” James shook his head as he described the life of his night manager.

Benito nodded in agreement, “How old is he—this fool?”

The two men laughed, they were clearly on exactly the same wave length. “He’s only a couple of years older than us,” James shook his head, “he’s thirty something. I mean, who in their right mind wants to be saddled with
that
at our age?”

Both men shook their heads, their feelings on the subject mutual, neither one of them interested in any kind of commitment or long-term arrangement, although for different reasons. “So what are we doing tonight?” Benito asked, “Clubbing?”

The curly haired James, as stunning to look at as Benito, was half Italian. His English mother had deserted the family when he was just a baby, he had been raised by his father—his hero. After Lucca’s sudden death, he had, in his words, adopted Gia and Roberto as his surrogate parents. Lucca had been Roberto’s business partner in a small Italian restaurant, an incredibly successful business with a regular clientele. Through this business, James had learned about the hospitality industry, he’d also become an accomplished cook and very close to Gia and Roberto, who had always been part of James’ life and had looked after him after his father’s passing.

“Yeah, sure.
We can go uptown. I’ll show you the sights, the girls! I take it you’ve still not got a steady girl Benito?”

Benito threw his head back laughing loudly, “No! No long term arrangements for me, too much trouble.” He answered shortly, turning and looking horrified at James. “I just don’t want a permanent fixture, happy with
a quick shag here and there. I’m too young and too busy for the hassle and nagging in your ear all the time.” He shuddered at the thought of a woman in his life—permanently. No, Benito liked the freedom to be able to choose a different girl—every night if he wanted! But his reasons for not wanting a steady girl ran deeper. He was fearful of ending up like his father, desperate not to give his heart to someone only to have it so broken that he couldn’t love again.

That point was the foundation of a firm friendship.

Arriving at Roberto and Gia’s house, James pulled the car onto the wide driveway, both climbed out and made their way inside. The moment they stepped over the threshold, Benito found himself wrapped in Gia’s arms. “Benito, look at you. Just like Franco!” she chuckled, her Italian accent so subtle, almost nonexistent. “Roberto!” she called to the back of the house, “Look who’s here!”

The rotund little lady, her dark hair swept into a neat little twist, walked to a back room calling her husband again, “Roberto! Come and say hello to your cousin’s son, Benito’s here with James.”

Roberto, tall and slim, compared to his wife, but with the similar olive skin, his salt and pepper hair catching the sunshine through the window, left his newspaper and greeted Benito. A few words were exchanged in Italian and pleasantries were observed before reverting to English.

“How’s your dad?” Roberto asked his hand on Benito’s arm.

“He’s fine, absolutely fine. He says that he’s retiring!”

Roberto huffed, flicking his head towards the ceiling, “That’ll be the day!”

Gia laughed at the comment, “Your father will
never
retire, not completely.” Fussing around the two young men, her smile seemed fixed; she was totally and utterly in her element.

Unfortunately, Gia and Roberto were childless, although not for want of trying, it just never happened. They’d resolved themselves long ago to being on their own but relished the opportunity to care for others, in particular James. Both of them had been devastated beyond comprehension when Lucca had died, they’d sat with James, his father’s official next of kin, and supported him as he made that dreadful decision, a decision that nobody should ever have to make, yet alone an 18-year-old child. The boy had floundered as he’d sat and watched his father, his hero, his everything, lie there lifeless, the bleeping machinery keeping him alive. They had continued to support him again in the aftermath, through the grief.

Then, they had packed James off on his travels to various far flung corners of the world. Yes, he’d seen some places and eventually landed that job in the states, but he hated working away from his home. So, standing in for his father, they called in a favour from deep in their past. A woman, who was at one time so close to becoming part of their family yet so far away—Maggie. She had a passionate relationship with Ramiro, Roberto’s brother, but had been prevented from marrying him by the boy’s father. She had done well for herself and owned lots of property around London including a prestigious hotel. When James had called saying he was unhappy, they’d spoken with her about a vacancy. After a discussion, she had agreed to meet with him and subsequently James was appointed. They’d got their surrogate son home!

 

After a family meal with Gia and Roberto, James and Benito headed back to the hotel, their plans to hit the town being openly discussed as they sat around the table.

As they left, they each received a stern talking to from Gia. “Look at you both,” she’d sighed. “If only I was thirty years younger,” she mused looking at her beloved James and Benito. “You look after yourselves,
please
do not get into any trouble and don’t, for heaven’s sake, make any babies,” she frowned at them, “I mean it boys, have fun but please be careful.”

They’d both stood there like juveniles and accepted the pep-talk answering when necessary. “Yes Gia. No Gia.”

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